#mha tickling

[ticklishfanart]

MERRY CHRISTMAS! 🎄💥⚙️

Here’s the first raffle prize~

under the cut for partial nudity teehee (multiple ppl chose this pairing and the one that won on the wheel spinner I used did not have specifications! Hoping to clear up confusion)

Best present in the world!! Might explode, please be careful 🙏

[lilaccfeathers]

Tickletober 2025: Trap (Ft Shinso and my bnha Ocs)

Technically this also counts as a redraw from 2022/23! Purple is Sakuma and Pink is Ikasumi!

[tick1ish]

just relax.

my hero academia | kiribaku | words: 1,484

☆ ☆ ☆

It’s amazing how many knots of tension a person can get in a matter of hours, whether because of stress itself or rigorous varieties of training. Bakugou is a victim to both, despite keeping the former concealed rather well; as he strives to become the pinnacle of what a hero means to him, he stands his ground at the oncoming stress of daily life and deals with it the only way he seems to know how -- bottling it up and forcing it down by the throat. It isn’t a healthy way of coping with the trials and tribulations that come with pro hero preparation ( especially not when you add in the weight of regular high school ), but Bakugou can’t be bothered with fixing his methods when there’s so many more important things to focus on. That’s what Kirishima is for.

Even if there isn’t much he can do in terms of directly aiding his explosive boyfriend in facing his mental vulnerabilities head on, the least he can do is knead and press away the tension with relaxing massages.

It’s become a bit of a routine between them: Bakugou will usually train and workout for a set number of hours and Kirishima will dutifully check up on him, feeling for any strained muscles once he’s done, and that generally leads up to a massage. Bakugou doesn’t even really need to ask for it ( not that he’d be able to fight past his own embarrassment to do so ) and he appreciates how attentive Kirishima is to his body. It isn’t as though Bakugou hasn’t tried to return the favor, but the other student just politely refuses, usually coming up with some sort of excuse that the blond doesn’t wholly believe, but also doesn’t press the issue.

“Woah.. you’ve really got some bad ones today, huh? What, were you trying to bench press steel?” Kirishima muses, tackling some pretty twisted kinks underneath the skin of Bakugou’s shoulder blades.

“Shut up dumbass, of course I wasn’t..” His voice leaks out softer than usual, more of a jellied groan than his normal growl, thanks to Kirishima’s absolutely magical fingers. He definitely worked harder than he did yesterday and even then, he had pushed past a limit that struck one of his palms numb - he keeps that to himself, however . He doesn’t need his boyfriend more concerned about him than he already is.

“Whatever you say, babe. How much more do you have of this insanity training thing? It’s good that you’re finding new ways to push past the limits of your body and all, but you should still be careful, y’know?” As attractive and manly as it is, the last thing Kirishima would ever want is for Bakugou to rocket too far and hurt himself. He’s already seen what that sort of honing and power has done to Midoriya, he couldn’t bare the thought of Bakugou enduring that kind of pain too.

Bakugou knows this too. He recognizes and values the vast amount of care Kirishima has for his well being, even if thinking about it churns the insides of his stomach like butterflies in a whirlpool. Sensing the tips of his ears painting over in a soft shade of pink, he opts for switching the subject around in favor of avoiding the abashment that dares to rear its ugly head.

“Mmf… move lower.. to the left..” He instructs, shifting the slender musculature of his back in order to better pinpoint where he wants Kirishima's hands.

“Here?” The redhead touches down on a particular area slightly underneath his shoulder blades, to the left just as he had said, closer towards his under arms -- and the answer he was granted wasn't exactly what he was expecting. As soon as he applied pressure, Bakugou let out a snort and jerked an arm backwards, as if to catch his hand and halt his movements. Kirishima blinks, registering the reaction he just got from where he touched. Experimentally, he reenacts the same motions on the same spot and was still surprised to have been gifted the same cute reaction, complete with a curse and a glare backwards this time.

“ Kirishima, not there--”

“Why not? What's wrong with that spot?”

“--! I .. Just, don't touch right there damnmit, I don't gotta explain shit to y--!” His barking is interrupted by another trail of squeaky snorts, Kirishima's hands having snuck back to play at that area once more, this time without the intention to massage and soothe. Bakugou's squirming is immediate as he throws his grinning visage into the pillows beneath his chin, giggles fighting their way through his willpower whilst hands are blindly shoving at his boyfriend's in order to get him to stop - not that it works of course.

“You know what's really cute about you? You're always ticklish in the least expectant places. Hahah, I'm always getting a surprise.” Kirishima's teases come from a 100% genuine love and that's why they're simultaneously the best and the worst kind. Bakugou's heart flutters in the hollows of his ribs, with warm sensations spotting all around as if daisies were blooming between the spaces.

Of course, Bakugou can only respond with a resounding “Sh-shuhuhut the fu-uhuck uhuhup!” to which Kirishima rebuttals with a grin of his own and deeper digs into the flesh while still maintaining something of a feathery stroke, already beginning to drive the blond mad. But he knows Bakugou's body better than the other might care to believe, so he decides to explore instead of remaining at the one spot in case Bakugou built up a temporary immunity.

As he skitters calloused apexes down bare skin, he makes certain to keep the sensation ticklish enough that Bakugou is still rendered nothing but a squirming worm against the sheets, until Kirishima locates a new area that causes the other male to jerk almost aggressively and force out an actual squeal ; Kirishima might have melted right then and there if it were possible.

“Ooh, I found a jackpot huh?” He teases, and you can definitely feel the beaming simper through his words, the utter delight in his voice managing to both piss off and alarm Bakugou all at once.

“D-Don't---! fuck , don't yohohohou fucking dahahare--” Yet Bakugou's demands fall on deaf, excited ears and it isn't long before his curses and growling giggles evolve into broken squeals and belly laughter as Kirishima works the oh so sensitive dip of his back. He thrashes underneath the redhead, attempting to buck and throw him off, or even force his spidering fingers away from that spot long enough to regain some breath and focus on escape. It proves to be much easier thought than done; Kirishima's hands are basically glued inside and around that curve and goddamnmit , he isn't building any sort of immunity to the sensations the longer the other stays on it -- if anything, they started to become even stronger.

At this point, it's becoming increasingly difficult to try fighting off Kirishima. Every breath of laughter that escapes him only further drains his energy. Utilizing his quirk would be in vain; Kirishima probably expects him to, especially after the minuscule fireworks that crackled in his palms as a warning. He'd just harden up and protect himself before going in for more.

“St.. stahap…!” One thing's for sure though and that's the way Bakugou's body now feels: softened, tired, and pliant - a total opposite to the rigid aches he was plagued with an hour prior. This may very well have been Kirishima’s plan the entire time, or, perhaps it was just good luck on his side. Whatever the case may be, as Bakugou’s head lulls to the side to release lazy giggles while Kirishima’s fingers finally begin to cease their assault, he can’t deny how much easier it is to just relax and permit his frame to go limp against the bed’s surface. Soft pants echo around stray chuckles that don’t match the glare he shoots his boyfriend’s way.

“Aha.. I know, I know,” Kirishima muses, leaning to plant a swift kiss to the blond’s slightly sweaty forehead before he can try to languidly shove at him for the attack, “You can kick my ass after you have a nap. You look exhausted.”

“Mnn… don’t talk t’me like I’m fuckin’ five.. it’s all your fault.. anyway..” But the breaks in his sentence from short yawns and the dewy glaze of sleep tugging at his subconscious give him away without a doubt. Medium lashes flutter gently before thin lids hover over crimson, slowly falling until sight is given to darkness and Bakugou begins to drift. Kirishima takes it upon himself to settle a slim blanket over the other male, granting him a soft, loving smile, before rising and migrating to the nearby desk across the room. With Bakugou sound asleep, he can probably get some homework in before he wakes up… and decides that he does want revenge.

[rand0m-s1nner]

@tickleartfight attack on @flames-tstuff ! my inner mha fan got happy when i saw my favorite character in your chart so i decided to draw these two sillies together

this is most definitely a regular occurrence in the dorms trust me /j

[thebest-medicine]

Make 24. With Lee! Deku and Ler! Kirishima?

Prompt 24 - "Sounds like someone needs a visit from the tickle monster."

Explosively Ticklish [part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7]

A/N: 'Wait!' You say, 'but Bakugo already got his revenge on everyone!' Yes...... but only the first round. Welcome to Part 7!!! This is the last I have planned out for now but who knows... may be continued further. He's got many more times to go and many more deals to make after all ;)

…

“Sounds like somebody needs a visit from the tickle monster.~” Kirishima sing-songed and bared his teeth in a grin as though a proud predator chancing upon their prey. 

The air in the room seemed to cool, sending a chill running down Izuku’s spine.

He was grappled in an instant. “Heh- wait a second– I hehe- Kirishihihima–” Midoriya whined, squirming as Eijirou wrestled his wrists into place next to his head. They laid there, locked in a brief stalemate, with Izuku against his mattress beneath his friend. 

“And you know…” Kirishima continued, “speaking of tickle monsters… I actually heard there’s one loose in the dorms..” Kirishima murmured, leaning in closer. 

Izuku giggled in anticipation. “Whahahat are you talking about?”

“In fact.. I think it might be close by…” He smirked. 

Izuku’s cheeks were blooming with red. 

Kirishima leaned in, breathing into the sensitive shell of Deku’s ear to make him squirm even more as he said. “You see… they can sense when someone really ticklish is vulnerable.” 

Izuku wailed, wishing he could cover his face. “Kihihihirishima stahahahop teasing!”

There was a knock–loud, more like a bang–on the door. 

“Oh no! Is that it?” Kirishima gasped, squeezing Izuku’s wrists for emphasis. “I think it is! The dreaded tickle monster!” 

He scribbled one hand down into Izuku’s belly for emphasis, making his classmate squawk out a laugh.

“Shuhuhut up!” Izuku snorted. “Whohoho is tha–AHHH!” He shrieked in horror as his door slammed open and a real life tickle monster appeared on the other side: a still-revenge-hungry, smirking Kacchan.

“—NONONO WAIT! KAHAHACCHAN? NO! KIHIHIHIRISHIMA! LEMME GOHOHO!” He was cackling madly, not even being tickled yet. He felt his chances of escaping this unscathed fleeting away. “Nohohot thihihihis! Not NOHOHOW! You tricked meheheheHEHEHE!” 

“Geeeez, giggles, get it together!” Kirishima teased him, poking one finger out to prod at his side. “Not even tickling you yet.” Izuku flinched away. “Save that laugh!”

“Plehehease!” Izuku gave him his best wide, desperate, puppy-dog eyes. Kirishima remained cold, unphased, and rock solid in where he held him down. “NohohohO DON’T! Don’t come any clohohohoser KahahaHAACCHAN!” 

Bakugo’d made his way over to the bed by now. He pressed his knees to the edge of the mattress and looked down, reaching out and starting to make quick work of the socks covering Deku’s feet. “NAHAHA!” Izuku squealed, unable to do anything as his ankles were quickly locked into Kacchan’s arms, whose fingers quickly began scribbling over Deku’s feet where they hung off the end of the bed. 

Kirishima relished the sight of Midoriya cracking instantly, not that he wasn’t already laughing in anticipation. It was less a nervous laugh now, though, more deep and desperate, somehow more jubilant, bubbly. He watched him carefully, then when he felt the resisting strength pushing against his hold faltering, he decided to make his move. 

Quickly, he shifted both wrists into one hand of his own, pinning them up and off to the side of his head. Midoriya blanched, shaking his head when he realized and beginning to plead anew.

Both of his wrists pinned by Kirishima, both of his ankles pinned by Kacchan–who also now seemed to be in the process of rearranging himself to sit over Izuku’s shins. Waist weighted down beneath Kirishima. Izuku’s insides twisted up in a swirl of conflicting emotion.

“Now, die you nerd!” Bakugo declared menacingly. 

Izuku all but wished he could.

Ferocious fingernails scratched up and down his soles, under his toes, along the sides and tops of his feet – they even squeezed up along the backs of his calves. And yet, that wasn’t even the worst of it! 

Kirishima took full advantage of the trapped, ticklish torso beneath him. He scratched his nails under each of Izuku’s arms, pinched his ribs and along his sides one at a time. He even scribbled his fingers over Midoriya’s belly and poked around his belly button, enjoying listening to his friend’s frantic screams of laughter. By the time Kirishima made it down to squeeze at Midoriya’s hips, he was barely able to do more than laugh frantically and squirm weakly.

“Hey, go pin those up over his head.” Midoriya heard Bakugo order, and then there was suddenly less pressure on his waist and legs, only to be replaced by weight along the tops of his thighs. Then, his arms were being tugged up. 

“Nooooooooooo..” Izuku cried weakly as Kirishima sat over his arms and effectively pinned his upper body, helpless and sensitive, between the two of them.

“Right, now, let’s really get to it.”

“NOHOHOHOHO! HEHEHEHEHEHELP!”

…

By the time they were done –or at least, giving him a break for now, as far as he knew– Izuku had lost his voice to laughter. He was hoarse, wheezing for air as he exasperatedly asked for water. 

Kirishima got up at once, grabbing him a bottle and helping him sit up a bit to sip on it as he held it to his lips. “Man, I thought you were gonna die for a second there… That was brutal.” Kirishima laughed lightly. “You’ve gotten tougher!”

“Yeah whatever, that’s what he gets.” Bakugo replied, the annoyance in his tone more fond and teasing than truly irritated.

Izuku chuckled hoarsely, laying back against the bed as Kirishima put the water down on the bedside table. He wheezed out his next question carefully. “Thihis.. heh- sihihince there’s twohoho of you… does *hic* this count as- hehe- two times?”

“No, stupid!” Katsuki shot him an angry look, shouting. “This was one time! Three left!”

“Whyhyhyhy not?” Izuku whined weakly.

“Do you wanna go back to four left?” He threatened

“Nohohoohoho…” Midoriya whimpered, covering his face with his hands and shrinking in on himself. “I’m sorryehehehehe…”

“Hey, come on Bakubro, are you trying to say I didn’t count?” Kirishima goaded, bumping Bakugo’s shoulder. “Trapped him here for you… Did a real number on him too, I’d say! You don’t think I helped at all?!” 

“What? No, you– we..” Katsuki tightened his lips, thinking for a moment.

Kirishima squeezed Izuku’s arm in support, hoping to help reduce his friend’s ‘sentence’ a little.

“Okay, yeah, whatever. I guess that’s true. You did a good job wrecking his shit, Shitty Hair.” Katsuki conceded with a grumble, complimenting his friend as he went. “This can ..count as two or whatever.”

Izuku’s breathing slowly returned to a semi-normal pace. 

Once Izuku was more calmed down and sure to be alright after the surprise attack, the other two got up. 

“Keep your eyes out for me, nerd.” Bakugo grumbled, stomping out of the door.

Izuku spoke up softly after he left and they were alone for a moment, giving the other student a thumbs up. “Thanks, Kirishima.” 

“Only fair. He gave me one off mine for helping him.” Eijirou winked. 

“Wait what–!?”

“–G’night Midoriya!” He finished, quickly shutting the door on his indignant friend. He stepped out into the hall to follow after his grumpy tickle monster of a friend, walking with a smile on his face.

…

[more sentence starter fic prompts]

[other sentence starter fics]

[read this & further MHA drabbles on ao3]

[tickling-giggles]

Heeyyy!! :) would you mind writing something for Power Loader from MHA?

I've got two things in mind:

1. The teachers are playing mario cart. Power loader Vs Kan. Power loader is laying on the ground before the Tv when Midnight decides to sit on him and tickle him to distract him. Telling him he's gonna get wrecked if he loses. (Which he does) And one of the others joins her wrecking him.

2. He was working on something alone in the workshop when the thing got loose and fell on him, trapping him under it. The construction had some vibrating parts that landed on his ribs and stomach driving him crazy. Now he had to pray and hope someone finds him soon.

Pick whatever intrigues you more.

Thanks!😁

Mario Kart Mayhem +

Late Night Repairs

———————————

A/N: Sorry that this took so long buttttt both of your ideas were too good I had to do both 😭😭 I hope you like it!!

Lee!Power Loader

Lers! Midnight & Present Mic

———————————————

Mario Kart Mayhem

“Alright,” Present Mic announced dramatically, “same rules as always. No throwing controllers, no unplugging the console, and absolutely no blaming lag.”

“I still say the game cheats,” Power Loader grumbled, adjusting his grip on the controller.

“The game doesn’t cheat,” Aizawa deadpanned from the couch. “You’re just bad.”

“I am not bad.”

Midnight smiled sweetly. “We’ll see.”

The race countdown began.

Three… Two… One… GO!

The second the race started, Midnight suddenly plopped down on the floor beside Power Loader.

“Midnight, what are you doing?” he asked suspiciously.

“Providing emotional support.”

Before he could question it further, she poked him lightly in the side.

Power Loader jumped.

“Midnight.”

Another poke.

“Midnight.”

A third.

“Midnight, I swear—”

She grinned wickedly. “You looked stressed.”

Then she attacked.

Power Loader immediately burst into laughter as Midnight began rapidly tickling his sides.

“No—wait—Midnight! The race just started!”

“Exactly,” she said cheerfully. “Perfect timing.”

“My kart—”

On screen, his character promptly drove straight into a wall.

Present Mic cackled. “He’s already crashing! This is amazing!”

“Present, don’t encourage her!” Power Loader wheezed, trying desperately to steer while squirming away.

“Encourage her?” Present Mic said. “I’m joining.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes.”

Present Mic dropped onto the floor next to them and started lightly poking at Power Loader’s other side.

Power Loader completely lost it.

“You two are the worst!” he laughed, curling up as much as he could while still clutching the controller. “Stop—I’m trying to race!”

“No mercy!” Midnight declared.

“You made us think you were dead!” Present Mic added dramatically.

“I was trapped under a machine!”

“And now you’re trapped under consequences,” Midnight replied.

Aizawa glanced over briefly from the couch.

“Are you two done terrorizing him?”

“No,” both answered at the same time.

Power Loader groaned between laughs. “Aizawa, help me.”

“No.”

“Cementoss?”

Cementoss merely shrugged. “This seems like a personal matter.”

“Traitors. All of you are traitors.”

The finish line approached on-screen. Somehow, despite the chaos, Power Loader managed to move from twelfth place to tenth.

Then Midnight scribbled her fingers lightly against his ribs.

Power Loader yelped, accidentally driving straight off Rainbow Road.

Present Mic fell backward laughing.

“And there goes tenth place!”

The race ended with Power Loader finishing dead last.

Midnight immediately jumped to her feet and threw her arms into the air.

“Victory!”

Power Loader flopped dramatically onto the floor.

“I survived being crushed by industrial equipment only to be defeated by tickling.”

Present Mic wiped tears from his eyes. “Honestly? That’s way funnier.”

Power Loader pointed accusingly at Midnight.

“Next week, you’re banned from sitting next to me.”

Midnight only smiled.

“We’ll see.”

Everyone burst into laughter, and for the rest of the night, Power Loader kept one suspicious eye on Midnight whenever she got too close.

———————————————

Late-Night Repairs

The U.A. support workshop was eerily quiet at nearly midnight.

Normally, the room was filled with students testing inventions, explosions from Hatsume’s latest creations, or Power Loader lecturing someone about proper safety procedures. Tonight, however, it was silent except for the occasional hum of machinery.

Power Loader didn’t mind working late. In fact, he preferred it. No interruptions, no accidental explosions, and no Hatsume running up to him yelling about her newest “baby.”

“Peace and quiet,” he muttered as he adjusted his welding mask. “Finally.”

He had been working on repairing a large construction-training machine used by the Support Course. One of the stabilization systems had malfunctioned during class earlier that day, and Power Loader wanted it fixed before students returned in the morning.

Most of the repairs had gone smoothly.

Unfortunately, most wasn’t all.

Power Loader climbed beneath part of the machine to tighten a loose support brace. He had almost finished when he heard a faint metallic creak overhead.

His eyes narrowed.

“…That’s not supposed to sound like that.”

A second later, the entire structure shifted.

Power Loader barely had enough time to look up.

“Oh, no—”

CRASH!

Something heavy slammed down onto him, knocking the air from his lungs. Metal beams crashed around him as part of the machine collapsed, trapping him beneath the framework.

For several seconds, all he could do was lie there in stunned silence.

“…Ow.”

He tried to sit up and immediately regretted it.

The fallen machinery pinned his lower body and one arm to the ground. Worse, several detached vibration modules—parts designed to simulate construction equipment—had landed directly across his ribs and stomach.

And they were still running.

BZZZZZZ.

Power Loader froze.

“…You’ve got to be kidding me.”

The vibrations rattled against his ribs nonstop.

BZZZZZZ.

He attempted to shove them away with his free hand, but they were wedged between pieces of debris and refused to move.

“BZZZZZZ.”

Power Loader groaned loudly.

“Of all the places to land…”

The vibrations weren’t painful exactly, but they were incredibly distracting. Every few seconds, another burst would shake against his stomach and ribs, making it nearly impossible to focus.

He gritted his teeth and tried pushing the heavier beam off himself.

Nothing.

He tried again.

Still nothing.

The beam didn’t budge an inch.

Power Loader let his head fall back against the floor.

“Fantastic.”

He looked around for his phone.

No luck.

It had apparently been launched somewhere across the workshop during the collapse.

“Perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

Minutes passed.

The workshop remained silent.

BZZZZZZ.

Power Loader squeezed his eyes shut.

“Whoever designed these vibration settings clearly hated people.”

Another particularly strong pulse rattled through the devices.

He jerked involuntarily.

“Okay. Nope. This is officially terrible.”

He considered calling for help, but the workshop was heavily insulated to protect nearby classrooms from noise. At this hour, there was no guarantee anyone would hear him.

Still, he had to try.

“HELP!” he shouted.

Only silence answered him.

Power Loader sighed.

At this point, all he could really do was wait.

And hope.

He wasn’t seriously injured—at least, he didn’t think so—but being trapped under several hundred pounds of machinery was far from ideal.

“Please let someone decide to pull an all-nighter tonight,” he muttered.

Time seemed to crawl by.

Just as Power Loader was beginning to think he might spend the entire night trapped beneath the machine, the workshop doors suddenly opened.

“Power Loader?” a voice called.

Power Loader had never been so happy to hear someone in his life.

“In here!” he shouted immediately.

Footsteps hurried closer.

Aizawa rounded the corner, followed by Midnight and Present Mic, all three freezing at the sight before them.

There was a brief pause.

Present Mic blinked.

“…How?”

Power Loader stared up at the ceiling.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Midnight knelt beside him, concern obvious on her face. “Are you hurt?”

“My pride is beyond repair.”

“And physically?”

“I’ll survive.”

Aizawa sighed, already moving to lift part of the debris.

“Why do I feel like this happens at least once a semester?”

“Because Hatsume exists,” Power Loader answered immediately.

No one argued with that.

Within minutes, the teachers managed to free him. As he slowly stood, sore and exhausted, Present Mic clapped him on the shoulder.

“You know, most people just go home after work.”

Power Loader groaned.

“Trust me. From now on, so am I.”

The others laughed as they escorted him toward Recovery Girl’s office, leaving the wrecked workshop behind for tomorrow’s problem.

[gingerlee-holds]

I feel bad for popping a request in ☠ anyway

If you're feeling up to it, perhaps ler Todoroki x lee Reader (bc me and reader insert are inseparable /j) from MHA? Length, perhaps 900+ words if possible? But I'll be grateful for anything haha, I also don't want to force you to write more if you're not feeling inspired i'm gonna be honest here I haven't watched MHA in a long time ☠ and I have no idea what scenarios would be realistic because he's,, Todoroki,,

Personally i'm a sucker for evil/more intense tickles because I wish I was ticklish but if that makes you uncomfy do feel free to ignore :)

oh hush, you!!! i love requests, so thank you so so much!! i just hope this is somewhat what you wanted heehee- enjoy!!! i have a huge crush on this dork so that creeps in- also the reader's quirk is whatever you want it to be, cuz its not mentioned- also also!! im really really sorry if i fuck the names up cuz from what i know of the show, Todoroki is the family name, so Shoto is the given name but i could be totally wrong

i just wanna say that i really really like writing the rambly bits from Shoto about the book-

the reader is sorta a brat lol

Like Poetry

Words: 2,334 Pairing: Ler!Shoto, Lee!Reader Warnings: lotta fluff!!! not proofread!!!

You groaned as you entered the common room. Mr. Aizawa’s personal training was brutal today, and you were not looking forward to feeling how sore your muscles would be tomorrow morning. Sighing, you grabbed one of Sato’s cupcakes from the counter and flopped onto the sofa, confident it would be unoccupied. It was about seven in the evening on a Friday, which meant everyone was either in their rooms or somewhere around town. 

You huffed into the mattress before gasping at the sound of a page being turned. Looking up, you saw you were about a foot away from, in your mind, the strongest student in your class. He was sitting with perfect posture, reading a book with yellowed pages. On the coffee table sat a mug filled with tea.

Shoto Todoroki didn’t look up from his book at you. If he knew you were there, he didn’t show it. He silently read, seemingly fully absorbed. You sat upright, shaking off the embarrassment of almost landing on him, of all people. 

You cleared your throat and gobbled up your cupcake in one bite, setting the wrapper down next to his tea. Still, he didn’t move. Raising an eyebrow, you poked him in the side to get his attention, and the surprised gasp he gave made you giggle. Shoto looked at you, brow furrowed in annoyance, but his face soon softened when you smiled and waved.

“Hi!” you said chipperly. 

He nodded politely in return. “Hello, Y/N. I’m sorry I didn’t hear you.”

With a chuckle, you shoved his shoulder. “No worries! Whatcha reading, bookworm?”

Shoto tilted his head. “I’m not a worm.”

You sighed and repeated your question without the tease. You loved that your classmate was so adorably literal. 

“I’m reading this book of old poetry. I don’t remember where I got it - it feels like my family’s always had it lying around. I decided to read it today since everyone’s out.” His voice was calm as he spoke.

You were somewhat interested in the subject but mostly just wanted to hear him talk some more. It was so rare that he spoke. “Anything good in there?”

“I found this one that I liked,” Shoto said before flipping back a few pages. “Rain on lemongrass. / Ash trees weep o’er their lost sun: / Their light and love, gone.”

The poem made you hum in thought. “What’s it about?”

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” he asked. Taken on its face, it was an insulting question, but you knew Shoto was genuinely unsure whether to explain it. You shook your head in reply. “The poem is about heartbreak. A woman falls in love with someone, and suddenly, that person has to leave. The woman feels like she has nothing left as she cries into a world that has bigger concerns than her. Soon, perhaps, her love shall return, the sun re-emerging from the clouds, but there’s also the possibility that she doesn’t last until then, and the wind blows her over. Ash trees symbolize grief, so perhaps they may never meet again. The lemongrass, evoking a cheerful memory, is smothered under the rains that hide her beloved.” Suddenly, he looked up from the page. “Sorry, I didn’t realize I was rambling.”

You scratched your head. “How did you get all that from just three lines?” You didn’t mind, of course. He was cute when he rambled. To your great surprise, he let out a soft and sheepish smile. 

“Well, I suppose I have too much time on my hands,” he said, looking away. You smirked and poked his side again, giggling at his surprised reaction. Shoto let out a muffled yelp and jumped, glaring at you suspiciously and rubbing his side. “Quit that.” 

“Sorry, Icy-hot! Can’t be helped!” You held up both your hands in mock surrender.

“Hm,” Shoto mumbled, looking back to the book. “This book was written entirely by hand. See? This character is slightly different here, here, and here,” he continued, pointing at different parts of the page. “And from what I can tell, its publication predates quirks, hence why they are not mentioned. If they had quirks, you would think there’d be a suggestion of their existence, no? Yet there’s nothing. For all intents and purposes, it seems like this book is a remnant of a simpler world.” His expression looked distant as if his mind were a hundred miles and years away. 

You leaned back, folding your arms behind your head. “Sounds dorky. Maybe you should tell Deku! I’m sure he’d be all too interested,” you chuckled, then looked over. If he heard your comment, he gave no sign. He must still be lost in thought. Looking down at his side, you saw it was perfectly exposed. You were pushing your luck. Then again, what is a hero if not someone who tries their luck? You pursed your lips together and quickly extended your hand to poke Shoto’s side again. 

But he was faster. As if expecting your reckless act, he set his book down and grabbed your hand before it made contact in one fluid movement. “You don’t listen, do you?”

“I do my utmost to avoid doing that, yes,” you said, giggling nervously. His grip was firm, giving you no delusions of escape. His hand was chilly, as if Shoto was threatening to encase your whole arm in ice at any moment. You tugged slightly.

He didn’t let go. “No, you need to learn this lesson.” Somehow, that was among the scariest things you’ve ever heard, right alongside the speech of the hero killer and Mr. Aizawa announcing an extra homework assignment before the summer break. Shoto pushed your legs toward the end of the couch, pinning you to his chest with both hands held behind you. You shuddered as Shoto said, “Now, learn well.”

Since both your hands were stuck behind you against his torso, you couldn’t defend yourself whatsoever when he descended both hands onto your stomach. You erupted into bright, bubbly laughter and kicked your feet like that would do anything to help. All that went through your head was repeated, ‘Oh, fuck, that tickles!’ 

You heard Shoto’s hum of approval from behind you as he clawed his fingers over the thin fabric of your shirt. “Interesting,” he mumbled to himself. 

“ShIhihihihIt! ShohOhOHohotoHoHoho!” You shook your head and thrashed all you could, but it didn’t matter. Shoto was stronger, and he would make sure you knew it. 

“Yes, Y/N?” he asked casually.

“STohohoHOAhaap!!” It didn’t have a chance of working, but it didn’t hurt to try.

“No.” Shoto’s clawed hands squeezed around your stomach in circles, taking a moment to dwell on your extra-ticklish lower stomach, which he took delight in exploiting. If you didn’t know any better, you would even say he enjoyed it as much as you were. 

“NohOHoHOhoHT TheheHEherre!” you pleaded helplessly, throwing your head back to give your torturer the best puppy eyes you could… although they were far less effective than you had hoped since they were quickly squeezed shut in uproarious laughter. 

“Here? Right here, yes?” Shoto released a flurry of pokes on your lower stomach as if he wanted confirmation.

You nodded and hiccupped, doing all you could to contain the blush that bloomed on your face at the sound of his cooing hum. Mercifully, he gave you a break, and you panted for breath against him. “Shihihitt…” you giggled, squirming in his grasp to get the ghost tickles off your tummy. 

“Here,” Shoto said, and you turned to see he was holding up his mug for you. Gratefully, you took a big sip of the refreshing tea, smiling a little at the warmth of it. It was strangely sweet; you had expected Shoto to only like the bitter teas, but surprisingly, the flavor was somewhat sugary. As if reading your mind, Shoto said, “It’s chamomile. It helps me relax.” He took the mug from your mouth and set it back on the table. 

Shoto cleared his throat. “Now,” he began, “Have you learned your lesson?”

“Is my release dependent on how I answer that?”

“Yes.”

“Then… Never!” You madly giggled as you attempted to escape his grasp before quickly regretting it. He had you suitably pinned, and to further reinforce his lesson, you realized with terror that he was rolling up your shirt to your ribs. “Wait, Shoto-!”

Your tormentor didn’t give you time to finish. Without fanfare, his hands descended onto your exposed tummy. Instead of clawing around, as he had done before, he was using quick scribbles, which, coupled with his cold fingers on your bare skin, was maddening. 

“SHohOhoHOTO!” You had no idea you were so ticklish! By the looks of things, it seemed like he had been in tickle fights before, and from how badly he was wrecking you, he was used to winning them. 

He hummed in thought as your thrashing weakened. “Your belly button is incredibly ticklish,” he observed. It was, to your dismay, very accurate. It didn’t help that his cold finger was heightening the feeling!

“PLehEHehEHHEase! MeheHEheheercyy!” you squealed out, kicking and bucking like a horse.

“Goodness, you’re dramatic. It’s only tickling, Y/N. If anything, this should build your endurance. What if the League captured you? I doubt you’d last a minute before you spill everything you know if they knew this weakness of yours.”

Why did he have to be so monotone with his teasing? He sounded so casual as if he were still explaining the history of that old book - only he was speaking over your hysterical cackling. He was a fast learner, too: he was pretty adept at locating the spots that got an especially wild reaction out of you and cruel in punishing them.

Shoto’s fingers increased in pace while always keeping one wiggling about in your navel. “I know,” he said, “I get it; you’re very, very ticklish. Now calm down.” You could hear the smile in his voice. He was having fun! “I wonder… you’ve inspired me to write my own poetry! Let’s see…” He paused to think, unfortunately not slowing down the tickles, making you yelp and shriek. “Ticklish cutie / Squealing on the couch with glee / With a cute tummy,” he slowly said as if writing it down. With a gasp, you felt him do just that, writing down the poem on your belly with the tip of his fingernail. 

You turned beet-red as you threw your head back, your laughter turning silent. You had long since begun crying with delight, and tears rolled down your cheeks in rivers, but he didn’t stop until you started coughing. With a chuckle, he released you, and you panted for breath. You didn’t move from his lap, and Shoto didn’t seem to mind. He gently placed a hand on your forehead, tilting it toward him. 

“Are you alright?” he asked gently. You nodded with a smile, which he returned. His smile was inviting, like a sunbeam on a winter’s day. He slowly helped you sit back up and handed you his mug again. You eagerly gulped it down. The tea was warm and sweet, and when you finished it and set it back on the table, you realized that Shoto wasn’t too different. 

“Thank you, Shoto,” you said softly.

“For the tea?”

“Yes,” you replied, “and… for the tickles. It… helped me unwind.” You looked away and rubbed your neck shyly. 

“You’re welcome, Y/N. It was fun for me, too. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh like that.” He smiled again, a small treat like candy. “It’s nice to see you so carefree. You’re usually a ball of nerves,” Shoto admitted bluntly, making you sigh and nod in agreement. 

You basked in the silence for a bit before both of you suddenly looked up. That was the unmistakable sound of… And right on cue, the word ‘mumble’ began to figuratively float across your field of view. At its origin, you and Shoto saw Izuku madly scribbling in his notebook and mumbling about something. You swore you caught the words “ticklish,” “stomach,” and “squeals.” 

Behind Izuku, standing in the hallway, were Ochaco, Denki, Tsuyu, Mina, Eijiro, and Kyoka. The first two desperately attempted to quiet Izuku, to no avail. You sat bolt upright, glaring at the unwelcome audience. 

Eijiro broke the silence with a playful swat to the back of Izuku’s head. “You got us caught with your nerd shit, Deku,” he joked, making the green-haired hero look away backfully. 

“That was adorable!” Mina grinned, pointing at you. “You made a bunch of noise, so we wanted to check it out!” 

“You’d better erase what you wrote, Deku.” You spoke calmly but in a way that gave no misapprehensions about your seriousness. 

Ochaco looked over Izuku’s shoulder. “Doesn’t look like he’s gonna do that.”

“Midoriya,” Shoto spoke up. “Be sure to write that they couldn’t use their quirk while being tickled.”

You gasped at the betrayal. “Don’t you fucking dare write that, Deku!”

With a glance, Denki, Kyoka, and Tsuyu replied simultaneously, “Oh, he’s already writing it.”

With a growl, you shot from the couch. “You’re fucking dead, Deku!” Your classmates yelped with shock and ran down the hall from you, stifling their giggles. 

Eijiro, egging you on, tossed back over his shoulder a snide, “Now you’re sounding like Katsuki!”

“Oh, I’ll make Katsuki look like a fucking bag of pop rocks when I’m done with you idiots!” Your threat carried no heat since it was filled with giggles. You couldn’t help but laugh at the ludicrousness of the situation, smiling fondly at how much you loved your friends.

And behind you, on the couch, Shoto grinned with pride as he picked up his book to continue reading. He was glad he had been allowed to be so affectionate with someone for a chance. Absent-mindedly, he picked up his mug of tea for a sip but sighed disappointingly at the lack of tea inside. Maybe he needed bigger mugs. 

[lovelymessybubbly]

Art idea:

Izuku in Sir Nighteye's tickle machine.

yes, great idea !!! i had been wanting to illustrate a ticklish hero being punished in this anyways ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)˚๐*˟ ♡ and izuku-kyun is super cute when he is hysterical.

i guess he must have said something that was not deemed in good spirits. poor, ticklish izuku-kun !!! ₍₍ ( ๑॔˃̶◡ ˂̶๑॓)◞♡